


Four Letter Words

by aquileaofthelonelymountain



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:27:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24111283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquileaofthelonelymountain/pseuds/aquileaofthelonelymountain
Summary: The very first day of the rest of their lives turns out to be a wonderful one. But, standing in front of the bookshop, about to say goodbye, Aziraphale finds that he can't bear to watch Crowley leave.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 233





	Four Letter Words

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there, this is me posting my first Good Omens fic :D I'm terribly late to the show, I know, but when finally watching the series I immediatelly fell in love with those pining dorks and couldn't help myself ;) 
> 
> Enjoy reading!

The very first day of the rest of their lives turned out to be a wonderful one.

It was late when Aziraphale and Crowley left the Ritz after a most scrumptious dinner, but the night was still pleasantly warm, perfect for a leisurely stroll through the park. The air was rich with the scent of blooming flowers, and the stars sparkled brighter than they had for weeks. Looking up at them, Aziraphale wondered if their unusual brilliance was Adam’s doing, or if the happiness he felt at their sight was a combination of relief, good food and drink, and pleasant company.

Next to him, Crowley’s eyes were hidden behind his glasses, but the angel knew him well enough to tell the little signs that gave away that he was easy as well, like the casual posture or the tiny, almost-not-there smile.

They had chatted about everything and anything during dinner, but they were silent as they walked through the park. Despite the fine weather, there weren’t many people around. There was birdsong and the chirping of cicadas, though, adding to the fairy-tale like feeling of the night. The proverbial clock, however, was about to strike midnight and end the magic: They had reached the bookshop, and now they stood awkwardly in front of it. Aziraphale smiled sheepishly at Crowley, Crowley stepped uneasily from one foot onto the other, and neither of them spoke, lacking the right words to say.

“So.” Eventually Crowley harrumphed. “Nice evening, ‘t was. Should do it again. So. See you soon?”

Aziraphale wasn’t sure if it really was a question. Smiling, he nodded nonetheless. “Of course. I’ll see you soon. Until then … Goodnight, Crowley.” With a wave, he turned around to enter his bookshop.

The very moment his foot fell on the first step, the clock stroke midnight. Suddenly he felt light-headed, as if a heavy weight had been taken from his shoulders so abruptly that the unexpected loss had him stumble. His own words echoed through his ears once more.

_I’ll see you soon._

He reached up to touch his lips, wondering if he had said them aloud indeed. And how casually he had spoken them! Well, he _could_ say them like that from now on, couldn’t he? They could see each other whenever they wanted. No clandestine meetings in varying places anymore, no hiding from prying eyes, no pretending they didn’t know the other whenever they happened to run into each other in public. Aziraphale smiled. No more pretending they ran into each other by chance when they both knew that they were drawn to each other, unable to be without the other’s presence for long.

From today on, they were free.

The thought was exhilarating. Dizzying. Intimidating, somehow. Less than twenty-four hours ago, there had been no guarantee that they would ever see each other again. Both Aziraphale and Crowley had been painfully aware of the fact that they had only been armed with a desperate hope – the hope that they had understood Agnes’ last prophecy correctly. The fear that they might be wrong had been evident in every exchanged word and glance, in every comforting squeeze of hands, in every mumbled assurance that they’d have their picnic or dinner at the Ritz soon.

Then the first light of dawn had come, and they had parted. Had waited for Heaven and Hell to act.

The memories of Hell, successfully pushed aside during their dinner, came back to the angel: the gloominess, the hostile sneers of the demons, the almost idyllic rippling of holy water into the tub, followed by the cruel sizzling of the poor creature that had been thrown into it. Wrong place. Wrong time. Those shrieks, and the stench. To think that this could have been Crowley’s fate –

“Crowley!” Still on the first one of the steps that led up to the bookshop, Aziraphale spun around. His call was breathless, frantic, as if he had just woken from a nightmare – which he had, even without having slept.

The demon turned half back, his brows above the glasses raised in question.

“I … ahem …” Aziraphale linked his fingers in front of his chest. He felt exposed, standing on the steps like that. “I know it’s _terribly_ late already, but would you still like to join me for a glass of wine?”

It was silly, really. He _knew_ that they would see each other again soon, probably tomorrow already. Still, he couldn’t bear watching Crowley leave right now.

“Sounds nice.” Crowley turned around, but stopped after the first long stride towards the angel. His brows were furrowed. “Four letter word”, he muttered. “ _Again_.” But then he shrugged and followed him into the bookshop.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Aziraphale turned around and pulled Crowley in an embrace.

He took the demon by surprise, and together they stumbled back against the door. The closed blends shifted, letting the golden glow of the streetlamps inside. Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley’s neck and buried his head in his shoulder, taking in his scent, his warmth, the familiarity of him. “I’m glad you’re safe”, he sighed, his voice muffled by the demon’s shirt.

Crowley had been frozen at first, but now his arms curled around Aziraphale’s frame, drawing him a little closer. “I’m glad that you’re unharmed as well, angel.”

“ _Glad_ has got four letters, my dearest.”

The demon huffed. “Alright, alright. Let’s say I’m happy then, okay?”

There was something about the way he said _happy_ that made the angel glance up, a fragile gentleness that would have been lost to anyone but Aziraphale. He reached up and cautiously removed Crowley’s glasses. His fingers trembled slightly, and he remembered the night before. At some point while they had plotted the details of the body swap, he had done the same. He still wasn’t sure what exactly had tempted him to do so – maybe it had been a slight tremor in Crowley’s voice, maybe the way Aziraphale had felt his gaze resting on him despite the dark shades, maybe it had simply been his longing to look into the demon’s eyes. Whatever the reason, the sight behind the glasses had left him overwhelmed. Looking into Crowley’s eyes had been like looking into a deep pond: On the surface, there had been dread and despair, poorly kept at bay, and a glint of anxious hope. But in the depths … There had been something else, something that had made Aziraphale feel as if he had been about to burn his fingers. Not in a bad way, though, but in the way one’s palms tingled around a mug of freshly brewed tea after being out in a cold dark winter night for too long.

Now, with their trials behind them, the veil of desperate hope was gone, and he could see _everything_ in Crowley’s eyes, clear and unadulterated.

Without taking his eyes off the demon’s face, Aziraphale reached to the side to put the glasses on a nearby shelf. He missed. They hit the floor with a clang. Neither of them flinched at the noise.

“I guess”, Crowley said breathlessly into the silence, “the wine was just a ruse.”

“Oh, I … I … ahem …” His soft gaze made Aziraphale blush, and he had to look away. He rested his cheek against Crowley’s shoulder, half hiding himself in the demon’s shirt. “It may be. I guess I’ve never been a good angel.”

Crowley’s comment had been a joke, of course – an angel luring him into his flat with the promise of alcohol, wasn’t that worth a chuckle? But Aziraphale couldn’t help finding some unspoken truth in it. Habits from millennia of interactions with head office died hard. He’d always been the odd one. The flawed angel who had been down on Earth for too long, who didn’t fit amongst the others. Who was wrong in so many ways. And they hadn’t even known about the Arrangement. Or his feelings for his _hereditary enemy_.

He felt the urge to apologise for his white lie, but Crowley spoke first.

“That’s something else I’m happy for.” His grasp around Aziraphale tightened, pulling him closer. “Upstairs is terrible. Clean. Cold. Just like the angels. The _good angels_ , as you call them. It would be dreadful if you were like them. And I … I’d be lonely.”

Despite his deepening blush, Aziraphale raised his head to look into the demon’s eyes again. His voice was fond, and his gaze … It made the angel tremble.

“I’m happy that you are who you are. Kind and soft. Clever and curious. So fond of the world. Horrible at magic tricks, really. Ruining my Bentley with tartan bike racks. And I – ”

He broke off with a surprised gasp as Aziraphale cradled his face between his hands and rested his forehead against Crowley’s. His breath hitched when Aziraphale tilted his head a little and their noses brushed against each other.

“Crowley.” The angel swallowed twice before he managed to ask in a whisper: “May I kiss you?”

The world around them was still. Then, the hushed answer. “Yes.” And, even quieter, nonetheless with an almost desperate ring to it: “Please.”

They had never been that close, not in six thousand years. Aziraphale smiled softly. He had known this wonderful being for six thousand years, and he had – without realising it for many, many a century, to be perfectly honest – grown to love him more with every passing day. And there were still new things that they could explore together, new little somethings about Crowley he could fall in love with. It just needed the bridging of the last little gap between them, an act that would take less than a second. A mere second, after six thousand years …

Aziraphale’s lips brushed against Crowley’s in the most delicate caress. Despite the advance warning, the demon flinched. But then he tilted his head slightly, tentatively bringing their lips closer. That tiny movement set something in motion, and they began to move in tandem, as if dancing to an inaudible music. Each gesture brought a memory of Crowley to the angel’s mind, and although they were scattered across millennia, he could place them without a moment of doubt.

Aziraphale placed a hand on the back of Crowley’s neck to pull him closer. _The adorably confused look on the demon’s face as he sat in front of a plate with oysters for the first time in his life._ Crowley’s arms tightened around him. _His smug smile when Aziraphale had returned from Scotland to learn that a true miracle had happened, and Hamlet had become a success._ The angel’s thumb rubbed soft circles across Crowley’s cheek. _Their gazes meeting beneath the shelter of Aziraphale’s wing._ Crowley leaned into the caress. _The open excitement on his face when he had performed his first blessing in Aziraphale’s stead._ The demon’s fingers dug deeper into his coat. _The chocolates he had brought to celebrate the opening of the bookshop, and how he had blushingly insisted that the gesture wasn’t a nice one, not at all._ A soft sigh on the angel’s lips, if his own or Crowley’s he couldn’t tell. _How forlorn he had looked when he had walked away from the bandstand._

At the last memory, Aziraphale drew back just enough to allow a hair’s breadth between their lips. “I love you, Crowley”, he whispered before kissing him again. He poured everything he could into the kiss – an apology for wasted years, a promise to do better, to keep him safe and secure. His wings unfurled and wrapped around them, enveloping them in a bright and warm cocoon.

Crowley gasped in surprise at their feather-light caress, thus breaking their kiss. He stared at Aziraphale.

“I haven’t seen you like this since the Garden”, he remarked in awe. He grazed the white feathers with his fingertips, tentatively as if they might disappear like soap bubbles. “There was the airbase, yes, but … Too little time to appreciate the sight.”

Aziraphale kept cradling his face. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Crowley looked at him, eyes wide and dangerously glassy as the significance of those words sank in. “Aziraphale.” His voice cracked. “ _Angel_. I love you. I have for ssso long.” Each confession was followed by another soft, sincere kiss. Love, kept hidden behind walls for ages, rolled off him like waves, and Aziraphale basked in its warmth like in the sun, basked in the knowledge that they didn’t have to hide any longer. Books were tossed to the ground as Crowley unfurled his wings as well. The black feathers brushed against white ones, intertwined in a way that sent shivers down Aziraphale’s spine.

“This isss real. Isssn’t it?” Crowley asked after a while. His voice was raw, and at some point their kisses had turned salty. They were still leaning against the shop’s door, foreheads pressed together and sharing breaths.

“It is.” The angel took a shuddering breath. “It’s overwhelming, isn’t it?” He wrapped his arms a little tighter around the back of Crowley’s neck. “You’re trembling, my darling.” He wasn’t in any better state; his knees were wobbling dangerously. “Come, let’s make ourselves comfortable in the backroom. I did promise you a glass of wine, after all.”

For a fact, they didn’t drink a single drop of wine that night. Once they were in the backroom, Aziraphale did try to get a bottle. But as soon as he turned towards the kitchenette, Crowley wrapped his hand around his wrist and pulled him down onto the settee, into his arms. Aziraphale had not the slightest intention to withdraw and snuggled into his beloved’s embrace. They shared kisses and whispered confessions, and this time, the light of dawn didn’t separate them.

It would never again.


End file.
